


War Games

by attackstance



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, Hybrids, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackstance/pseuds/attackstance
Summary: Dongyoung finds a new cat, and Taeyong just can't compete. Especially when he's not trying to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wow porn.

Contrary to popular misconception – something he _might_ have to take the blame on – Dongyoung considers himself a dog person.

 

They’re needy and overly affectionate and energetic, and that’s exactly what he prefers. He’s the type who needs to dote on someone to get the most out of his morning, to know someone’s waiting at home to brighten his day. His mother tells him to find a girlfriend instead, but a pet dog is much easier to manage.

 

Somehow, all Dongyoung manages to attract are cat-hybrids.

 

Right now, in the market parking lot with a heavy paper bag filled with groceries slipping out of his arms, there’s one sitting cross-legged on the hood of his car. It’s frigid outside, but the cat is only clothed in a pair of garish boxers and a maroon collar, yet appears completely unbothered about it. He’s facing away from Dongyoung, watching the waning sun in its silent splendor.

 

It’s a little strange, even for someone as strange Dongyoung, and he’s not sure if he should shoo the hybrid away or get him a blanket to warm his skinny frame.

 

The bag of groceries nearly slips from Dongyoung grip until he awkwardly catches it with his knee. Decisions need to come fast. “Um, h-hey, buddy. Could you, kind of, uh…get off of my car?”

 

The cat-hybrid’s ears swivel toward Dongyoung, but he doesn’t respond. Dongyoung frowns, really wanting to be out of the cold himself, but the closer he watches the hybrid, he notices the subtle shivering over his tanned skin.

 

It reminds me of his own cat, proud to the point of stupidity, and Dongyoung’s heart twists just a little. “Do you need a jacket? A blanket? There’s one – I have one in my trunk you can have. So you don’t, you know, freeze?”

 

The hybrid actually faces him, eyes wide and blinking, lips parted with frosty breaths puffing between them and good God he’s _adorable._ He still doesn’t acknowledge a word Dongyoung has said, but there’s no way Dongyoung can leave him out in the cold without a nice meal or at least some clothes on his back. It’s already taking all of his effort not to rush and wrap the hybrid in a warm hug – also fear of being scratched to hell.

 

“Um, okay, look, I have food? If you want?” Dongyoung reaches into grocery bag, nearly dropping it again, and fishes out a package of fresh-cut salmon that _was_ meant for his soup. The hybrid apparently doesn’t understand words, but food is all the communication he needs. His face brightens and he hops off of Dongyoung’s car, walking and reaching out for the salmon, but Dongyoung pulls it back out of his reach.

 

“Ah, but only if you come home with me and put on some clothes, okay? Home? Clothes? Food?” Dongyoung points to his passenger seat emphatically, trying to make it easy for the hybrid to understand. From this distance, he can see the golden charm on the hybrid’s collar with a name etched in cursive. _Sicheng._

 

After a few endearingly confused head tilts, Sicheng gets the idea and climbs into the backseat, trying to reach into the grocery bag against until Dongyoung pushes his claws away.

 

“Don’t worry,” Dongyoung assures as he settles into the driver seat, smiling at Sicheng from the rear-view window. “My cat only wears my shirts anyway. There’s plenty of clothes for you.”

 

There’s never been another cat-hybrid around Dongyoung’s home, so he doesn’t have a clue how Taeyong will react to Sicheng.

 

He doesn’t expect demonic hissing loud enough to shatter the depths of hell the moment he unlocks the door to his apartment.

 

On his couch, Taeyong is curled up in front of the television wearing one of Dongyoung’s shirt he’s scratched holes into, scowling violently at them in the doorway with his tail ramrod straight. Sicheng, probably twice Taeyong’s height, shrinks fearfully behind Dongyoung’s back.

 

“H-hey, what’s wrong with you?!” Dongyoung shouts at his irate cat, a bit spooked himself. Taeyong might be a dick to him at times, but he’s never hostile like this.

 

“What is _that_ doing here?” Taeyong shoots back venomously, furious gaze never leaving Sicheng. “Why are you getting another cat?”

 

Dongyoung rolls his eyes, walking to the kitchen to set down the groceries no one’s helping him with. Sicheng follows close behind, but Dongyoung isn’t worried. Taeyong is about as tough as the moths he’s secretly frightened of. “All right, I get that you're jealous –“

 

“I’m _not_ jealous!”

 

“– but you can’t be an asshole to guests like this. Sicheng is – oh, that’s his name, Sicheng – he was sitting on my car without a shirt when I got out of the store. I’m just giving him some clothes.” Dongyoung gives Taeyong a pacifying smile. “I’m not replacing you. Yet.”

 

Taeyong’s black ear flatten on his head and he mutters something Dongyoung can’t hear, but otherwise he nestles back into the couch, satisfied. “How long is he staying?”

 

Dongyoung looks back at Sicheng, who’s doing a poor job of trying to sneak the salmon off the kitchen island, and shrugs. “Until I find his owner, I guess. He’s got a collar, so he must be somebody’s.”

 

“Then why can’t his master give him clothes?” Taeyong shoots Sicheng a sour look, which Dongyoung blocks by standing Taeyong’s view.

 

“What’d I say about being an asshole? He might be here for a while, so you better learn to be nice.” Dongyoung tries to reprimand Taeyong, but Taeyong just turns to the television, pointedly ignoring him. He frowns, ready to add something else until the sound of plastic ripping interrupts him.

 

Sicheng is a split second from swallowing half the package of raw salmon whole before Dongyoung swipes it away. “Cut it out.”

 

The groceries take twice as long to put away, Taeyong stubbornly refusing to help and Sicheng trying to eat everything Dongyoung passes to the refrigerator. It’s been less than an hour and Dongyoung is already exhausted, the tension too much for his tiny apartment to handle. If his bid of kindness is actually going to work out, he needs his cat and his guest to get along, and that’s not likely to happen as long as he’s babysitting them.

 

After he shrugs on his coat, he tells Taeyong, “Look, I’m gonna go and see if there’re any flyers for missing cats at the community center. Could you at least get him some pants and start dinner while I’m out? And _you_ put on pants too!”

 

Taeyong gives a noncommittal huff, which Dongyoung can only take as half-confirmation – Taeyong never wears a stitch of clothing unless it’s Dongyoung’s shirts. Sicheng is still in the kitchen, keeping a safe distance away from Taeyong. Dongyoung regrets leaving him alone so soon, but he knows Taeyong is nothing to worry over, more meow than bite.

 

“All right, I’ll be back soon. And remember, _be nice.”_ Dongyoung points to Taeyong in warning before he shuts the front door.

 

–––

 

“All right, what’s your deal, kitten? Why aren’t you talking?”

 

Taeyong starts the interrogation as soon as he knows Dongyoung’s out of earshot, leveling Sicheng with his most imposing glare. Sicheng doesn’t respond, face blank as if Taeyong hadn’t said a word, but Taeyong isn’t quick to give up. He knows Dongyoung too well, knows his master is too nice for his own good and too easily beguiled by a pretty face and a sob story.

 

Luckilly, Taeyong isn’t so easy to fool.

 

“C’mon, it’s just me here now. You can talk to me, feline to feline. I already know you’re faking it anyway,” Taeyong goads, waiting for a crack in Sicheng’s confidence, but there’s nothing grab at. He’s clearly not new to playing the Hungry Stray act.

 

Taeyong stands from the couch, Dongyoung’s torn t-shirt the only clothing covering him down to his bare thighs, and stalks toward Sicheng, black tail whipping behind him. “No answer? Just gonna play dumb? Fine.”

 

Sicheng starts to back away when Taeyong reaches the kitchen, his backside hitting the counter’s edge before he can escape. Taeyong reaches out to hook his claws into Sicheng’s collar, tugging the taller cat down to eye-level. “Just know that I don’t trust you, and I’m not letting you hurt my master. Got it?”

 

The wide-eyed stare he’s given is more confused than frightened, as if nothing he says budges Sicheng. His armor is tough, Taeyong has to admit it. He releases the collar and Sicheng backs away a few steps but doesn’t run, staring while Taeyong shuffles around the kitchen to start on dinner.

 

“I don’t suppose you know how to cook, right?” Taeyong asks while he grabs vegetables from the refrigerator, knowing he’s talking to himself more than anything with the game Sicheng is playing. “No? Then stay out of the way.”

 

Whether he understood or not, Sicheng obeys, shuffling out of Taeyong’s way as he moves about but oddly never leaving the kitchen. Taeyong could almost forget Sicheng is there at all if not for his unfamiliar scent, boldly amber and faintly ginger to keep Taeyong’s sensitive nose curious.

 

When the vegetables are in the pot and Taeyong is slicing the salmon into chunks, Sicheng finally makes himself known again – or at least his stomach does. The deep growling startles Taeyong out of his flow, and Sicheng cheeks are heated red when Taeyong glances at him.

 

Liar or not, even Sicheng couldn’t fake a sound that desperate, and Taeyong isn’t prone to cruelty. “I guess we have a little extra,” he sighs, picking up a chunk of raw salmon between his claws and offering it up to Sicheng. “Here, eat something, kitten.”

 

Hesitation gone in a flash, Sicheng leans down to take the fish in his mouth, his warm lips wrapping around Taeyong’s fingers briefly before he pulls back. Taeyong watches Sicheng chew, waiting for the tingling in his fingers to go away, and Sicheng gives him a toothy smile.

 

“Jesus,” Taeyong grumbles as he turns back to the food, realizing now why it was so easy for his master to fall prey to Sicheng’s charms. He’s damn adorable, even if he is a fraud. “You’re not getting to me,” he swears to himself and pops a chunk of fish into his own mouth.

 

Somewhere between the cutting board and the skillet, Sicheng is fed three more pieces of salmon, each time eating directly from Taeyong’s hand. It’s not quite how Taeyong planned to cook and there’s definitely less salmon than there’s meant to be for the soup, but it was difficult not to give Sicheng just a few extra pieces when he stared at Taeyong with those warm, wheedling eyes.

 

More food in his belly, Sicheng is more willing to stand near Taeyong, close enough that his tail bats Taeyong’s legs on every swing. He watches everything curiously, more cat than human, as if he’s never seen anyone cook before. It makes Taeyong much more aware that Sicheng is only wearing a pair of hideous underwear, his arm brushing Sicheng’s bare stomach from their close proximity.

 

“Don’t get comfortable,” Taeyong warns with a little less fervor than before, but Sicheng doesn’t listen anyway. He’s a warm, fleshy barnacle against Taeyong’s shoulder, adding to the already smothering heat from the stovetop. Taeyong’s cheeks are flushed, mouth twisted with concentration to _focus_ on not burning the fish and ignoring the adorable towering cat attached to him.

 

When the fish is seared to perfection and Taeyong is shutting off the gas, Sicheng moves in closer, dipping his nose timidly into Taeyong’s neck. Taeyong jerks away, the skillet jitters in his hand and a droplet of hot oil splashes onto Sicheng’s stomach, making him squeak and jump away.

 

Taeyong means to be irritated and address the importance of boundaries, but Sicheng has the slightest pout on his lips as he rubs the spot where the oil burned him, ears drooping. Taeyong weakens. “Shit, are you okay?” he asks and steps near Sicheng, pushing Sicheng’s hands aside so he can see the affliction on Sicheng’s taut stomach. It’s barely a speck pinkening his skin, but Taeyong regrets it all the same.

 

Sicheng takes the chance to capture Taeyong’s wrists in a soft grip, pulling Taeyong close with Taeyong’s hands up against his chest. Like this, he can resume what he tried a moment ago, leaning down and drawing the tip of his nose over Taeyong’s neck with delicate sniffing.

 

“You’re pushing it,” Taeyong growls, but he lets Sicheng scent him, not breaking away from the weak hold keeping him still. He tells himself it’s just so Sicheng can sate his curiosity, get it out of his system so they can go back to being enemies. His tail belies his indifference, whipping more enthusiastically the further Sicheng’s nose scrapes past his hairline, just brushing the shell of Taeyong’s twitching ear, and Taeyong has to put a stop to it here. “All right, all right, you’ve got a whiff, that’s en – _nnngh~!”_

Thoughts melt into mush when Sicheng’s rough tongue _drags_ over the sensitive flesh of his inner ear. Taeyong never knew he was weak to his ears, but his legs can barely hold him up against Sicheng’s sudden tongue bath, every lick drawing out his quelled instinct to purr on cue. He tries to step back, but Sicheng follows insistently, swirling his tongue over Taeyong’s skin and scraping his fangs over the pointed tip of Taeyong’s ear.

 

“E-ease up, you… _ahh,”_ Taeyong murmurs under his breath, talking too much effort when Sicheng switches to suckling at the base of Taeyong’s ear with his plush lips, warm breath puffing maddeningly over Taeyong’s flesh. They’re far away from a neighborly tongue bath now, his cock stiffening underneath Dongyoung’s t-shirt is evidence enough, and he’s positive this is just as Sicheng intended it.

 

The counter digging into his lower back holds Taeyong up as Sicheng’s hands migrate from his wrists, down his arms and around his waist, the breath of distance closing between their bodies. Taeyong knows Sicheng can feel his hard-on pressing against his hip, and just as well, he can feel Sicheng’s bulge digging into his lower stomach, looking for attention. Taeyong chances a look down, tantalized by the sight of Sicheng’s clothed dick rubbing against his stomach.

 

Sicheng drops his mouth down to Taeyong’s neck, suckling and biting at the unblemished expanse of Taeyong’s neck. His hands tighten around Taeyong’s waist as he grinds his cock against Taeyong’s stomach in a desperate search for friction. Taeyong bites his lips, itching to give Sicheng what he needs despite them being sworn enemies. Horniness wins easily over hostility, and Taeyong slides his hands down Sicheng’s chest to hook his thumbs into Sicheng’s awful boxers, tugging down until Sicheng’s cock flops out against Taeyong’s shirt.

 

The thin barrier alone is too restricting. Taeyong raises his shirt to trap it under his arms and let’s Sicheng’s cock slap bare against his stomach, the raw sensation of skin impacting making him tingle with delight. Sicheng is appreciative, soft purring rumbling through his chest to Taeyong’s and his tail curling around Taeyong’s leg. Needy moans interrupt Sicheng’s errant purrs when Taeyong spits into his palm and wraps his hand around Sicheng’s girth, pumping him slickly. His precum leaks over Taeyong’s skin, smearing a sticky patch on his stomach.

 

The heat between them rises and Sicheng presses him painfully into the counter’s edge, his knee parting Taeyong’s legs so his hip grinds up against Taeyong’s hardened cock. Taeyong ruts shamelessly against him, taking full enjoyment in Sicheng’s plush lips sucking greedily under his jaw and the firmness of Sicheng’s bony thigh against his cock. There’s no caution to be found, both of them thrusting wantonly against each other, Taeyong keeping a tight fist for Sicheng to fuck into while cradling Sicheng’s balls in his other hand.

 

He can feel just when Sicheng is about to cum, cock burgeoning and balls tightening in his grip. In a moment, Sicheng’s panting into his neck grows harsh and he spurts thick globs of jizz over Taeyong’s stomach and up to his chest, coating Taeyong’s front in a creamy mess. Taeyong coaxes every drop out of him with diligent hands, forgoing his own erection to finish Sicheng off.

 

He regrets that a minute late when the telltale sound of a key twisting in the front door halts the moment. Panicked, Taeyong springs away from the counter, pushing Sicheng off so he can pull his shirt down over his cum-coated stomach and hide his erection. Sicheng loses his balance and falls gracelessly to the kitchen floor, whining in an unfittingly deep voice.

 

Dongyoung gives them both a wary look as he closes the door, Taeyong the picture of guilty with red marks littering his neck and his arms huddled awkwardly to hide his boner and the cum leaking through his shirt, Sicheng getting to his feet with his boxers, thankfully, pulled up. “What…happened?” Dongyoung questions as if he doesn’t want to know.

 

“Uh,” Taeyong starts intelligently, no help coming from Sicheng. His common sense comes back from its lust-induced vacation and suddenly he realizes _what the hell he just did_. And not even an hour after they met! “We cooked?”

 

Dongyoung glances at Sicheng who’s still rubbing his sore backside, then frowns at Taeyong. “Did you push him?”

 

“What? No!” As grateful as Taeyong is for switch of focus, Dongyoung’s irate expression promises a long lecture he doesn’t want to hear.

 

“I told you to get him some pants, not toss him around the room!”

 

“It wasn’t like that! I was – hey, tell him I didn’t hurt you!” Taeyong kicks Sicheng in the calf, not exactly helping his case. Sicheng turns to him, confused, then to Dongyoung, still confused, then to the skillet filled with salmon, hungry.

 

Taeyong scowls at him.

 

After an intense session of scolding – which Taeyong mostly ignores – and an insincere apology – which Sicheng doesn’t understand – they finish dinner and enjoy a meal blanketed in tense silence. Dongyoung is still suspicious, glancing between Taeyong and Sicheng between bites. Taeyong keeps his eyes carefully from both of them, unless he’s sneaking a glare at Sicheng.

 

Only when he’s in the bathroom preparing to bathe does he notice he absolutely drenched in Sicheng’s scent. Not just the smell of Sicheng’s cum, but Sicheng’s natural scent is so cloying on his skin he can barely smell himself, and it likely isn’t an accident.

 

“Sneaky little concat,” Taeyong mutters with contempt, scrubbing himself clean in the shower. He’s less irritated, more embarrassed he succumbed to his libido without a fight and also a _little_ horny because he never got to rub his load out, damn it. If he falls, there’s no one to protect naïve Dongyoung from being swindled out of house and home. Taeyong can’t let that happen after all Dongyoung has done for him.

 

Defense refortified, Taeyong vows not to let Sicheng bewitch him again, not those innocent eyes or his attractive height or his _deep_ -chested purr that basically demands Taeyong bow his back and – _no_ , none of it. He climbs into his bed wearing one of Dongyoung’s favorite sweaters, his heart encased in unforgiving steel.

 

Before he went to sleep, Dongyoung decorated the couch with spare blankets and pillows, fully expectant of Sicheng to sleep in the living room. Taeyong hears the softest creak of his bedroom door that says otherwise, hesitant footsteps and the odor of amber approaching his bedside. His bed dips and Sicheng crawls forward on all fours, tail high in the air and his sniffing nose immediately sensing the change in Taeyong’s scent.

 

Taeyong raises his leg and plants his foot in Sicheng’s flank, shoving him over the edge of the bed.

 

“You’ve got your own bed,” Taeyong hisses venomously, still bitter about being scolded earlier.

 

Sicheng hops right back up a second later, pouting but otherwise unfazed. “Get out, cat.” Taeyong glares at him, scowls with all the raw, combustive fury he can muster in his eyebrows.

 

Sicheng counters by lowering his head onto his hands with his rear end sticking up high, eyes wide and mewing pathetically. The pajama pants he’s wearing are too short and ride up on his caves, sleep shirt nowhere to be found. His ears are flat over his inky black hair and his tail is listless.

 

The whole image is too adorably submissive and pitiful for Taeyong to fight, his scowl weakening by the second. He’s never had to combat such concentrated cuteness, he doesn’t have any back-up strategies, and Sicheng seems prepared to match him every step of the way. He should’ve locked his heart in a tougher metal.

 

“God damn it,” he growls, begrudgingly shifting over to one side of bed so all of Sicheng’s largeness has plenty room. “But I swear, you better keep your stink off of me or you’re out of here. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

 

Sicheng doesn’t acknowledge a single word, flopping flat over the sheets as close to Taeyong as possible. Taeyong grunts and digs his knee to force Sicheng away few inches, glaring sternly when Sicheng tries to shuffle back in. “I mean it,” he warns again and points with failed authority; Sicheng just blinks.

 

Taeyong rolls away and falls to sleep in moments, the warm aroma of amber lulling him to sleep.

 

On most mornings, he wakes to the sun crawling over his face and the raucous snarling of his empty stomach, at which he stumbles to the kitchen to prepare breakfast before Dongyoung leaves for work.

 

Today, Taeyong wakes feeling better than he can ever remember, pleasure thrumming through his entire body.

 

…he feels a little _too_ good, actually.

 

When a nimble tongue swipes down his inner thigh, he realizes why.

 

“What the –“ Taeyong head shoots up, eyeballing the conspicuous purring lump hidden underneath his red sweater and the lean shirtless body between his spread legs. Sicheng has clearly been up for a while; Taeyong _reeks_ of Sicheng’s scent again, meaning Sicheng had plenty of time to reacquaint his face with Taeyong’s body.

 

Just as Taeyong gets ready to do something productive like smack Sicheng over the head or hiss at him, Sicheng drags his tongue over Taeyong’s balls, licking a thorough trail up the underside of Taeyong’s morning wood to the very tip. Any curses Taeyong prepared to hurl dissolve into “Gkhfskdl _fuuuck,_ ” and his head plummets right back into the pillow.

 

The approving moan eggs Sicheng on, his tail swaying energetically. His tongue drags over the sides of Taeyong’s dick, curling around the base and teasing the sensitive nub under the head, coating Taeyong in a layer of spit. Taeyong’s claws are attached to Sicheng’s head over the sweater, twitching and tightening when Sicheng wraps his tongue around his cockhead, the roughness like sweet murder on Taeyong’s nerves.

 

Sicheng trails lower, suckling bites down the crook of Taeyong’s thigh and pelvis. Taeyong feels Sicheng’s hands urging under his knees and absentmindedly lifts his legs, anticipation welling in his gut the farther down Sicheng’s nipping travels, his bottom lip clench between his teeth.

 

Thankfully, Sicheng is too single-minded to tease much, lips lingering briefly at Taeyong’s taint before he laps flat over Taeyong’s exposed asshole. Taeyong lets out a full-body shudder, his grip on Sicheng’s head likely painful now, but Sicheng isn’t distracted. He eagerly mouths around Taeyong’s hole, swirling his tongue around playfully and digging the tip in just past Taeyong’s rim.

 

His hands on Taeyong’s knees spread Taeyong apart wider, Taeyong’s pink pucker on display and already glistening with saliva, and Sicheng presses his face close to stuff his tongue past the tight rim. Taeyong’s groan is choked off, his hardened cock bouncing against his stomach and spurting out a clear dollop of precum. Sicheng lacks any sort of finesse, the strokes of his tongue messy and too wet, but his eagerness more than makes up for it.

 

Taeyong thinks he can explode without even a hand jerking himself like this, Sicheng curling and twisting his lengthy tongue inside him and prodding at the perfect spot, lapping at his walls coarsely and sending every nerve ending abuzz. “L-like that, again, fuck,” Taeyong demands or pleads, he can’t tell. He’s weakened and pliable and his hole is already soft and dripping. He needs more, something thicker and more thorough than Sicheng’s nimble tongue to fill him up, and he nearly asks for just that –

 

_“Growing heart b-b-beat, it’s getting faster! Not like you, heart b-b-b-beat whenever you see me~”_

 

It’s Dongyoung’s phone alarm blaring through the wall. By this time, Taeyong always has breakfast finished and on the table for them to eat. Dongyoung will notice something amiss the moment he opens his door.

 

Taeyong shuffles back on the bed, stretching his sweater down between his legs to cover himself as if Dongyoung’s already in the room. Sicheng sits back on his haunches, hair ruffled and tongue still poking from his pillowy lips obscenely. He’s so incredibly, fuckably cute it almost pains Taeyong to stop him.

 

“You’ve gotta get out of here. _Now_.”

 

For some reason, Taeyong still forgets Sicheng doesn’t know a word he’s saying. Sicheng frowns and prowls forward, fully intent on finishing what he started, but Taeyong hops off the bed and yanks Sicheng by the arm, pulling him off the bed haphazardly. “C’mon, c’mon, out you go!”

 

Sicheng drags his feet, stubbornly resisting leaving Taeyong’s room, and he’s really not as lightweight as his gangly appearance suggests. Taeyong grunts trying to drag Sicheng by the elbow through the doorway of his room, Sicheng grabbing the doorway to keep himself inside. “Quit being a brat, you little –“

 

“Taeyong?”

 

Taeyong jumps at Dongyoung’s voice, losing his grip on Sicheng’s arm and stumbling back into the living room. Without Taeyong pulling him, Sicheng tumbles back into Taeyong’s room, groaning when he knocks his head against the floor.

 

It’s the perfect moment for Dongyoung round on them, scratching his head while his sleepy brain takes a long minute to figure out what it’s seeing. His bleary eyes widen and he glares at Taeyong. “Again? _Really?_ ”

 

That tone spells more trouble for Taeyong. He sputters, pointing to Sicheng on the floor. “Wait, n-no! It wasn’t my fault this time. _He_ was in _my_ –“

 

“I can’t leave you two alone for _a night_ without you attacking him!”

 

Fortunately for Taeyong, Dongyoung doesn’t have time for a thorough lecture. He gives Taeyong a warning glare before he leaves, a punishment brewing if he comes home to more fighting.

 

The door shuts and Taeyong walks back to his room, leaning against the doorway. Sicheng is sprawled out on his bed, sleeping with all the care of a cat not on probation. His ears twitch against the pillows, breathing evenly between parted lips.

 

Taeyong watches for a long time and realizes, with dismay, that he doesn’t have a problem with it – which happens to be a _huge_ problem.

 

Whatever defenses he built up last night are already crumbling to the ground. With all the marking and touching, Sicheng has been pretty blatant about his desire to mate, and it’s working better on normally prudish Taeyong than it has with any other hybrid. Taeyong doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s getting weaker to Sicheng’s charm the longer they’re together.

 

He’s also been incredibly horny since yesterday, which might be a factor.

 

Hell, why bother fighting it?

 

Taeyong climbs onto the bed, crawling over the long line of Sicheng’s body with delicate movements and straddling his thighs. He takes a page from Sicheng’s book and presses a kiss to the Sicheng’s warm stomach, soft as not to wake him. His lips trail up the faint lines of muscles until his lips wrap around a pert, dusky nipple. Sicheng stirs a bit then, a breathy exhale from his nose at Taeyong sucking at his chest.

 

Gaze on Sicheng’s face, Taeyong scrapes his fang over the bud, delighted when Sicheng jerks awake with a choked off moan, hips inadvertently bucking up against Taeyong’s bare ass. Sicheng is already getting boned up in his pajamas, Taeyong feels it acutely, and he smirks around Sicheng’s bud, teasing it with rhythmic swirls of his tongue while the tip of his claw flicks over the nipple.

 

He only stops when Sicheng starts to writhe underneath him, trying to find friction with his bulge against the swell of Taeyong’s ass. Not wanting him to get off alone _again_ , Taeyong crawls up until his face hovers over Sicheng’s, coy eyes meeting surprised ones.

 

“You still wanna play, kitten?” He slides his claws under the band of Sicheng’s collar, pulling it tighter around Sicheng’s throat. “Or are you all instinct?”

 

Their mouths are a breath away, Sicheng licks his plump lips in anticipation, but Taeyong moves away reaching over the bedside to dig around in his nightstand drawer.

 

“Have you used this before?” Taeyong asks as he rises to a kneel over Sicheng’s torso, a pear-shaped bottle of clear fluid dangling from his fingers. The blank look in Sicheng’s eyes gives Taeyong an answer, and he wonders just how inexperienced Sicheng is. “Eh, you’ll learn. I’m not doing this myself next time.”

 

On most days, Taeyong’s bottle of lube doesn’t see much use. He doesn’t jerk off as religiously as when he was younger, and he slicks up plenty on his own when he’s in heat. He squeezes a generous glob into his hand and tosses the bottle aside, then bends down to meld his mouth to Sicheng’s.

 

Sicheng is more eager than he appears on the outside, immediately parting his lips for Taeyong’s kiss. Their tongues tangle and slide over each other with urgency, Sicheng whimpering when Taeyong’s teeth tug and sink into his plush bottom lip and Taeyong shuddering when Sicheng one of Sicheng’s hand cradles the back of his head, massaging the base of his ear and pulling him down into a more desperate liplock.

 

While Taeyong pulls Sicheng’s tongue between his lips and sucks around it, his slick fingers circle carefully over his hole, already loosened from Sicheng’s earlier attention. He sinks two inside smoothly, grunting into Sicheng’s mouth when he’s knuckle deep. It isn’t nearly as comfortable as when he’s in heat, but he stretches himself diligently and avoids pleasuring himself, wanting to save as much for Sicheng as he can endure. One of Sicheng’s hands comes up to cup his ass, tentatively at first until his fingers collide with Taeyong’s, then he’s curious, prodding at Taeyong’s like he wants a turn as well. Thinking of those long, spindly fingers playing inside has Taeyong throbbing painfully and he _really_ needs to cum.

 

“I said next time,” Taeyong promises and draws up to a kneel, withdrawing his fingers. “Pants,” he orders, smacking Sicheng’s clothed thigh as he climbs off him. Sicheng gets the hint and scrambles to slide his pajamas down, kicking furiously when they tangle around his ankles. By the time he’s fully bare, Taeyong is on his knees with his head cradled in his folded arms and his sweater rolled up to his armpits, rear end in the air and his tail curled in an arc to middle of his back. His cock hangs between his thighs, leaking and begging for attention – Taeyong has tiny bit of patience left in him.

 

But Sicheng is taking too long, climbing up to his knees behind Taeyong and doing more ogling than touching, hands skating delicately over Taeyong’s thighs and fingers teasing his soaking rim like he’s trying to memorize everything. Taeyong doesn’t need to be admired, he needs to be _fucked._

 

“Kitten, I’m trying to be nice here,” his low tone borders on threatening even in his position; Sicheng’s hands pause. “But your dick needs to be in me. _Now._ ”

 

His growl startles Sicheng into action. His hands slide to Taeyong’s thin hips, keeping Taeyong steady while he pushes the head of his cock against Taeyong’s slick hole. He eases in slowly, Taeyong feels his hand shuddering as he does, likely trying to keep himself from coming too soon. Taeyong grunts into his arms, willing the discomfort away as he’s filled inch by slow inch until Sicheng’s hips press firm against his ass.

 

Instead of waiting like Taeyong expects, Sicheng scrapes his claws lightly over the skin just above the base of Taeyong’s tail, making Taeyong’s back bow in instinctively and his knees spread. Sicheng’s long body folds over his, chest at the small of his back and hands planted on either side of Taeyong’s folded arms. Like that, he starts to move, rearing back until Taeyong is stretched around the thickest part of his length, then pushing in full-bodied so the bedframe rattles.

 

It aches at first; Sicheng is young and doesn’t know how to reign in his enthusiasm, every thrust at full power. Taeyong bites his lip, rolling his hips to meet Sicheng’s hips until they find the right rhythm. The underside of Sicheng’s cock drags over the perfect spot relentlessly, knocking airy moans out of Taeyong with each slap of his hips against Taeyong’s ass. “Yeah, like that, like – _agh, fuck yeah,”_ he breathes with approval, his own cock jumping in time with Sicheng’s thrusts.

 

The noise apparently pleases Sicheng, his chest rumbling with purrs and his face nuzzling between Taeyong’s shoulder blades. He keeps that merciless angle as he fucks into Taeyong, learning just how to keep Taeyong’s raw groaning from stopping, hiding his own moans in Taeyong’s back. His tail wraps affectionately around Taeyong’s thigh, claws clenching the sheets on either side of Taeyong as he gets more fervent, less controlled.

 

He comes first easily, a pitches moan cracking his voice as he spurts off deep inside Taeyong’s hole. The feeling of gooey heat coating his insides has Taeyong shuddering with pleasure, and he barely needs to squeeze his own cock to finish off as well, covering the sheets beneath him in layers of his spunk.

 

After panting heavily for a few minutes, Taeyong realizes Sicheng doesn’t plan on getting off of him, his softening cock still warm inside Taeyong and his sweaty chest still plastered to Taeyong’s back. Taeyong reaches back and slaps Sicheng’s hip sharply. “Off!” Sicheng yelps and finally rolls off, both of them grimacing when he pulls out of Taeyong, to collapse on the clean half of the bed.

 

Taeyong stands on wobbling legs, stretching tall much like he does after a refreshing nap, and regrets it when liquid warmth begins trickling down his leg. He doesn’t bother looking at the clock to know it’s nearing Dongyoung’s lunch time, meaning he still has to whip a quick meal soon.

 

When he finishes sprucing up in the bathroom, Sicheng is still lying down, nude and an evidently sated smile on his face. “Hey, come help me make lunch and I might give you something special later,” Taeyong offers.

 

As always, Sicheng head tilts in confusion. Taeyong is growing terribly fond of it. No use for words, Taeyong balls his fist in front of his mouth and lewdly mimics a blowjob.

 

Sicheng flies out of bed and follows behind him.

 

–––

 

There’s a woman in front of Dongyoung at the main desk of the hybrid shelter, her pinstriped pantsuit emanating power. Her voice is even, but Dongyoung can tell by the frazzled expression on the desk clerk’s face that she means business.

 

Dongyoung isn’t usually this nosy, but his lunch only lasts half an hour and he’s been standing behind the woman for close to ten, whittling away precious time to go home for a quick bite to eat. The stack of flyers is crinkling in his grip, a grainy picture of Sicheng stuffing his face with fish on the front to give to the shelter.

 

“No no no, I’m afraid you _don’t_ understand,” the woman barks at the clerk, who shrinks further behind his desk. “I haven’t lost any garden variety cat. Dong Sicheng is worth a fortune and I _must_ have him returned to me.”

 

The name cues Dongyoung to speak before he can remember he’s eavesdropping. “Wait, what’s your cat’s name?” He asks, bluntly interjecting into their conversation.

 

The clerk is relieved, but the woman turns to him and narrows her eyes with suspicion. “Excuse me? Is that any of your business? Have you heard something?”

 

Before Dongyoung can open his mouth and spill everything, he remembers how he found Sicheng, barely clothed and not budging an inch from the hood of his car, happy to follow Dongyoung at the promise of food and not trying to leave the apartment since. If this woman lost Sicheng, it was likely because Sicheng ran away.

 

“Um, I-I just…,” Dongyoung’s eyes flicker in panic, clutching the flyers to his chest so the picture can’t be seen. “I…have a cat of my own. Yeah, Taeyong sees lots of cats when he’s, y’know, out causing trouble. Maybe he’s seen yours too!”

 

His awkward laughter screams unease, but luckily the woman is disinterested, rolling her eyes at his bid of assistance. “Since you’ve been _listening_ , you’ve already heard that Sicheng is no ordinary cat. He wouldn’t waste his time with any…,” she appraises Dongyoung unsubtly from head to toe, grimacing at his uncomfortable smile, “…common breeds.”

 

“Why’s that? My Taeyong is very friendly,” Dongyoung lies, because he’s already deep in the middle of another lie anyway. His Taeyong is a dick.

 

The woman sighs, exasperated. “Sicheng is a _show_ cat. A dignified purebred imported from China. He has a meticulous palate and enjoys shining on stage, not scrounging around for scraps in the alleyway dumpsters with your Taekyoon. Why, I can’t remember a time when he hasn’t…”

 

The Sicheng Dongyoung met was pretty eager to stuff his face with soup and rice, lounge around on the couching watching Japanese shows, and sleep in Taeyong’s bed. As the woman goes on about her cat’s accomplishments and ribbons and even more ribbons, Dongyoung isn’t so sure they’re talking about the same Sicheng at all. Dongyoung knows a living creature, while she seems to be looking for a tool.

 

“…so no, I’m afraid you and your cat _won’t_ be of any use.”

 

Dongyoung smiles abruptly, decision made with no trouble. “Ah, you’re right. I don’t think Taeyong would know anyone like that.” He bows politely to her. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

 

As he leaves the shelter with quick steps, he makes sure to drop the stack of flyers into the recycling bin.

 

He’s in even more of a rush to return home then, happy to share what he knows of Sicheng’s origins with Taeyong. Oddly, when he climbs the steps to his apartment door, he finds a plastic bag with a bowl of food hanging on the doorknob, likely for him.

 

It should be a hint, but Dongyoung doesn’t take it. “Hey, Taeyong!” He shouts as he pushes into his apartment. “Guess what? I found out where Si – _AH_ , oh my _G_ _od!”_

Dongyoung slaps a hand over his eyes and backs into the door, trying to wipe the image of Taeyong kneeling with his head between Sicheng’s legs from his mind. It doesn’t work. “Uhhh,” he starts shakily, peeking between his fingers to see, yeah, Taeyong is still in the same position, though now he’s glaring at Dongyoung. Sicheng is at least shy enough to try angling out of Dongyoung’s view. Dongyoung appreciates it. “Is this, like, a cat bonding thing, or…”

 

“No. Get out!” Taeyong roars without remorse.

 

Dongyoung flinches and hastily retreats from the apartment, bowing apologetically as he leaves for some reason. “Sorry! Sorry!”

 

With the door shut, he stands there for a few moments, processing what he walked in on and wondering if he should be miffed about getting kicked out of his own home.

 

Then he checks inside the bag Taeyong left for him and finds it stuffed with steamed pork buns, still warm, and all is well.

 

“I guess I can afford two of them,” he considers as he walks back down to his car, chewing on a bite of his favorite greasy snack. His lunch ended about four minutes ago. “They’re getting along now. A few extra hours here and there and yeah, yeah, this’ll be fine.”

 

Dongyoung will still firmly, passionately reiterate that he is _not_ a cat person.


End file.
